Ridges
by FranklyMyDear23
Summary: Carol discovers the scars on Daryl's back


I do not own The Walking Dead

Carol couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the house, but everything just seemed far too quiet. She was used to chaos and fear and insanity now that absolute peacefully silence frightened her. She tried to pull the covers up to her chin and will her mind to relax and let herself sleep. But it was no use. Even after the long day they'd had, sleep wasn't finding her.

They'd spent all day on the road until coming across the large white plantation home. It looked like something out of one of the house magazines she'd often look over while in line at the grocery store. Rick and Daryl had done a sweep of the perimeter and had deemed it safe - well, as safe as anything nowadays. There were plenty of bedrooms considering the number of people in their group and who all could bunk together. Carol had gotten a small bedroom with a large window next to the bed. It was on the second story so she wasn't afraid of opening her eyes to find a walker staring at her through the glass. But the absolute silence was unnerving. She'd gotten used to the sounds of the cicadas with sleeping outside. But inside the safety and warmth of the plantation home, all she could hear was the sound of her own pulse throbbing in her ears.

After what seemed like an hour of struggling to sleep, she stood from the bed and made her way across the hall. _What are you doing_, she asked herself, _just go back to bed. _But she was already standing in front of his bedroom door. Her hand was already reaching up in a fist to rap at the door. _Just go back to bed, Carol. For Pete's sake, just go back to bed! _But she was already knocking on the door. Embarrassed, she glanced around hoping no one else had heard her. Maybe _he _hadn't heard her. She could just turn around and go back to her bedroom...

"Hey," the door was open now and Daryl sleepily was leaning against the frame. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand.

"I-I'm sorry..." Carol blushed, "I just couldn't sleep."

"It's the silence," Daryl nodded, opening the door wider, "I can't get to sleep either."

"It's funny," Carol smiled, hoping she wasn't being too much of a bother, "I've gotten used to the noise and chaos. But a peaceful night? It has me on edge."

"Tell me about it," Daryl jerked his head towards his room, "Well, c'mon. Might as well keep each other company, huh?"

Carol ducked under his arm and inside the bedroom. His bow was propped against the dresser. His old clothes were in a heap on the floor in one corner and he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms he'd found in the dresser and a black t-shirt. It was new - also from the dresser - and fit snugly across his chest. Carol found her breath catching in her throat as she stared at his chest. She quickly pulled her eyes away and walked around the room towards his window.

"It's gonna storm tomorrow," she said, "I can feel it. Maybe we'll get to stay here for a day or two. It is nice...in spite of the quiet."

"Hey, I'll take quiet over bein' walker bait any day," Daryl grinned. He wandered back over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, "You wanna lie down?" He asked, "And just...talk or somethin'? Fill the quiet?"

Carol nodded. She was nervous about lying down next to him. She could feel the butterflies start to metamorphose inside her stomach, and she hoped Daryl couldn't hear how loudly her heart was pounding against her chest. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when she'd started to feel these things so intensely towards him, but she did. It used to be just lighthearted and teasing. Just to try and get a little rise out of him. But lately her feelings had deepened into something more. He was now all she could think about and being next to him made her feel lightheaded. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt like this.

She slowly eased herself onto the bed and laid down next to Daryl. There was a good bit of room between them, but all she could feel was his electricity. She laid down on her back, staring up at the ceiling just as he was. He had his hands tucked behind his head. His muscles tensed knowing she was next to him...in bed. _Keep it together, _Daryl told himself. But Carol lying next to him made him into a ball of nerves. He took a deep breath and tried not to think too hard on how she made him feel. Maybe asking her to lie with him wasn't the best idea. All he could think about was grabbing her and kissing her. Daryl kept his eyes transfixed on the ceiling.

They laid together in silence for a little while before Carol said, "You know what helps me relax when I can't sleep sometimes? Or at least, it worked before the world went the way it is," she sighed.

"What's that?" Daryl asked, still not taking his eyes off the ceiling. _Don't think about her body...don't think about her body. Think about the cracks in the ceiling. Hey! That one looks like a rabbit. Don't think about her body...don't think about her body..._

"The feeling of someone rubbing my back," Carol explained, "I could...I could do that for you if you wanted."

Daryl's heart skipped a beat. When was the last time someone had given him a back rub? The thought of Carol's hands on his skin excited him. Oh how badly he wanted her to touch him! He would have rolled over right there and then. But then the thought hit into him. A back rub. His back was not what Carol was probably imagining. His back was not smooth skin. Instead it was knotted, bumpy, and calloused with scars. It was covered in ridges and thick clumps of scar tissue. He thought of the maps he'd seen in the past with the raised grooves for mountain rages right in the paper. That's what his back was - grooves and ridges and ugliness.

He couldn't let Carol see something like that. "My...my back," Daryl cleared his throat, "It's too scarred up for a back rub."

"Nonsense," Carol insisted, "But if you don't want me to, I won't."

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. Carol had looked disappointed. He'd heard it in her voice too. She wanted to do this for him. But how could he show her something so hideous? Daryl shook his head and said, "I want you to...I do. I just don't think you'll want to when you see."

Carol sucked on her lower lip. Daryl's words were starting to worry her. She'd seen a few scars when he'd wear his vests and sleeveless shirts. But she'd never seen his back completely before. The scars she did see were horrible. His flesh had been so badly mutilated that it didn't even look human anymore. But she badly wanted to touch him there - to have him feel some sense of love in a place where he'd only felt pain. Carol rolled over towards Daryl and said -

"Please let me. Let me do this for you."

Daryl nodded, giving in. He sat up slightly and took off his black t-shirt. He felt the nerves clenching at his stomach. What if he repulsed her? He slowly laid back on to the bed, on his stomach. Carol examined his back. It was worse than she'd imagined. She'd never seen anything like it before, and she wondered if he still felt pain because of it. She felt sick to her stomach that anyone could ever do such damage to another person. The only patch of flesh that looked 'normal' was one small area on his right hip. Carol took a deep breath and slowly reached a hand out. She was scared to touch him. She didn't want to hurt him further. Would touching these scars - this knotted flesh - hurt?

"You don't have to," Daryl winced. It wouldn't have been the first time a woman was repulsed by him. Usually when he did sleep with a woman, it was a woman he'd paid for. Whores were fine if you kept your shirt on just as long as they'd get their cash. But most women he'd tried to be with in the past would try to get him to take off his shirt, only to leave in disgust if he did.

"No," Carol shook her head, "I just am worried I'll hurt you."

"Just be gentle," Daryl said, "And you won't hurt me."

Carol nodded. She slowly lifted one hand and ran her fingertips along the grooved flesh. Daryl shivered underneath her touch. She was so worried that she'd hurt him. She continued to explore his back, roaming her fingertips along every inch of his flesh. Daryl relaxed onto the mattress. Her touch was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. No one touched his back ever. At least, not in the way she was.

"Don't say you're sorry," Daryl interrupted, "If you were going to say you were sorry, don't. I'm fine. It's fine."

Carol nodded understandingly, "Just let me know if I hurt you."

"You couldn't if you tried," Daryl turned his head to the side to watch her face as her hands continued across his back. Her brow was furrowed when she'd come across one area of flesh that was badly knotted. But she didn't look disgusted or horrified. She looked calm as her fingertips explored his back. Daryl had never felt anything so wonderful in his life as her touch.

"Dad'd use anythin' he could get his hands on - belt, chain," Carol frowned, hating that someone - especially his own father - could show him so much cruelty, "...two by four...Merle usually got the worst of it all but when Merle grew some brains 'n split, I was the whipping boy."

Then Carol did something that surprised him. She lowered her head and kissed a cluster of scar tissue on his left shoulder. Daryl gasped slightly at the unexpected gesture. "N-no one's ever done that before," he explained, "Too ugly," he tried to shrug off the last comment with a chuckle. Carol shook her head.

"Not ugly. Not at all," she kissed another ridge of scar tissue, "I-I don't expect you to say anything in response to this. It's just something I've been meaning to say for awhile now. But...I love you."

Daryl, for a moment, wondered if he'd heard her correctly. Surely not. The words 'I love you' were so foreign in his ears. But she had said them. And here she was, touching his back and showing him love and tenderness when all he'd ever felt was pain. And a peaceful smile came across his face as he said, "I love you too."


End file.
